


Baby Mine

by aparticularbandit



Category: Jane the Virgin (TV)
Genre: F/F, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2020-10-26 15:29:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20744480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aparticularbandit/pseuds/aparticularbandit
Summary: When Luisa is super sick and baby Mia starts crying, Rose has to figure out how to make things better.  She might not be the most successful.





	Baby Mine

**Author's Note:**

> Y'all voted for fluff; here is your fluff. ^^

Baby Mia’s screaming started around two in the morning. It echoed through the halls of their little house, reverberated against the walls, and somehow seemed to be even louder by the time it reached their room, even though they knew that shouldn’t be the case, that this far away, it should be _softer_.

And yet.

Luisa curled up on one side, one of her fluffy white pillows pulled tight over her ears, then turned onto her stomach and buried her face in the other. “I’m _not here_,” she whined, lifting her head just enough for her watery red eyes to meet her wife’s clear ones. As she spoke, the screaming only grew louder, and she winced, her lips turning down into a scowl. “_I’m not here but I have to take care of her because someone has to take care of her so that the screaming will stop._”

Rose placed the back of one hand against Luisa’s forehead. Half full bowls of vegetarian noodle soup – _mostly_ vegetable broth – lay scattered on the other side of the bed, and a thermometer rested haphazardly on the table next to Luisa’s side of the bed beside an empty jade green teacup covered with little white flowers. Luisa coughed once, covering her mouth with one hand in an attempt to suppress another one.

“You’re not going anywhere near her,” Rose said, pulling her hand away, “because if you get _her_ sick, there will be _two_ of you whining.” She leaned down and pressed a kiss to Luisa’s feverish skin. “I love you, but you’re staying _right here_.”

“_But you don’t even like her._”

This sick, Luisa took longer than normal to recognize the flat expression that Rose was giving her and then took _even longer_ to go over her words. Something she said must have caused that reaction, that physical pulling away, and when she realized, her eyes widened. She sniffled once. “I didn’t mean that.”

Rose held a stained handkerchief up to Luisa’s nose. “Blow.”

Luisa obeyed her wife’s command, but her eyes were even wider when Rose turned back from balling the dirty handkerchief up and throwing it into their laundry basket. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“Stay here, Lu,” Rose said, patting her wife’s arm with one hand and swinging her bare legs over the side of their bed. “I’ll take care of the baby I don’t like. You get some sleep.”

Luisa leaned over to the other side of the bed, arm reaching out to stop her and failing miserably. “_Remember that you’re not allowed to kill anyone anymore._”

Rose stopped just at their bedroom door and turned back, flashing her an enigmatic slasher smile. “I don’t have to _kill_ a baby to get it to shut up.”

“_Rose!_”

But Rose had shut the door behind her before Luisa could get herself to move, and the following clicks gave the impression that she was trying to lock Luisa inside their bedroom. A few minutes later, Luisa pushed herself up out of bed and crawled on bare feet over to the door, but when she tried the doorknob, she couldn’t get it completely open, even though it didn’t seem to be locked. She whined again to herself, her face turning into a pout, and then her stomach _lurched_. She barely returned to their bed before it stopped. Once there, she curled herself up into a blanketed ball and buried her head between her pillows again.

* * *

Unbeknownst to Luisa, Rose actually _was_ good with babies. She’d been the one to keep Mateo calm when she’d had him kidnapped, only handing him over to Nadine in their last few moments together. The other woman had been in on her plan to catch Mutter, of course, and, much like Michael had turned out to be, wasn’t really dead – just moved out of the way somewhere safe with her family. No torture, no electroshock, no amnesia – Nadine had done her part and been rewarded for it. Why would Rose have her killed? She’d been an excellent part of set-up. No point in punishing loyal helpers; that just meant more people turned on her later. Bad plan. Nadine was too good to kill.

...other than the fact that Mateo would _not_ stop crying whenever he’d been placed in Nadine’s arms. He’d only stop when Rose held him – or, eventually, when his fathers were in the room.

—pun. Or not _really_ a pun, but certainly Rafael and Michael wouldn’t want to be referred to that way together in that sentence. People might think they were actually _gay_ with one another. Somehow, Rose believed Rafael would have more trouble with that than Michael would. Michael, at the very least, had always been nice to her…when she was Susanna, anyway. Rafael a little less so.

Rose was quiet when she made it into Mia’s bedroom. It’s dark – all of the overhead lights and lamps have been turned off, but there was a night light that made shadows of fish swim across the walls. When they’d decorated Mia’s room before she was born, Luisa had _demanded_ the fish night light (and glow in the dark stars, which had ended up in _their_ room instead of baby Mia’s – mostly because Rose had refused to allow her the night light).

Mia was still wailing, squirming on her back, little hands clenched into even smaller fists, her deep brown eyes shut tight and her mouth stretched wide open. She didn’t stop when Rose approached her crib, and only a few hiccups broke her crying as Rose picked her up. The sound was muffled slightly as Rose held her against her chest, but not by much.

Rose slowly began to rub circles on her daughter’s back and moved over to sit in the rosewood rocking chair with the floral cushions in the other corner of the room. “Your mama thinks I don’t like you,” she murmured in soothing tones. In her opinion, babies were the same as animals; it didn’t much matter _what_ she said to them so much as it mattered _how_ she said it. “I don’t know _why_ she would think _that_.”

Mia quieted just enough to listen to what Rose was saying, or maybe it was the gentle sound of Rose’s voice as she spoke or the sound of Rose’s heartbeat just beneath her head. She sniffled a couple of times, her eyes still watery with tears.

And, fortunately enough, or maybe it was because she was used to Luisa listening in, just because Rose _thought_ it didn’t matter what she said to Mia didn’t mean that she’d say whatever she wanted.

“I _do_ like you,” Rose murmured in that same soft voice. “I just don’t think your mama wants you to turn out the way I did. She wants to be very careful with you.” She slowly began to rock back and forth in the chair as Mia burrowed closer to her. It was easier to stay quiet, her eyes watching the pattern of fish as it moved across the soft blue walls, than it was to try and explain herself to a baby who probably didn’t understand a word she was saying. Her gaze drifted down to the child in her arms. “But I think that’s enough talking for now, don’t you?”

Mia looked up at Rose with her big round brown eyes, freckles spattered across her face, and blinked a couple of times. It seemed to Rose as though she were waiting for something. Outside of talking and rocking, there was only one more thing she could think to do.

“You’re a hard sell, you know that?”

Mia blinked a couple of times.

Rose looked down at her and brushed her fingers through the thin strands of curly red hair on top of her daughter’s head. “I don’t sing for just anyone, you know.”

Mia’s face scrunched up, and she coughed twice.

“Fine, fine. I get it. Sing or no sleeping. How very _like me_ of you.” Rose bent down and kissed her daughter’s forehead in the same soft manner she had when she’d kissed her wife’s feverish one earlier then leaned back in the rocking chair and began to sing:

“_Baby mine,  
don’t you cry._”

She didn’t know _all_ of the words. It had been a long time since anyone sang her any sort of lullaby. Elena had never been a fan of it, and by then, she’d been far too old for that sort of thing anyway. They hadn’t been much on Disney or other sorts of children’s films, so her repertoire was very small. Some yodeling folk songs, maybe, but she wasn’t very good at that. And, worse still, it wouldn’t be very soothing for Mia.

Even this one – Rose wouldn’t know it at all if not for that old gal pal movie Luisa had demanded they watch earlier. Well, less _demand_ and more _feebly request_, given how sick she’d been feeling, and Rose hadn’t been able to say no. She was never able to say no to her. But a few minutes in a movie wasn’t enough to stick permanently in her mind, especially with how much Luisa had been sniffling and blowing her nose and coughing throughout the whole thing.

So, when she couldn’t remember any more of the words, Rose began to hum instead. That seemed simple enough. She could do that.

* * *

Luisa awoke later that morning to a bed that was still empty of any occupant other than herself. She rubbed a hand across her previously sweat-covered forehead and found it to be clammy but dry. Right now, she certainly didn’t _feel_ as sick as she had earlier. Maybe her sweat had broken. Maybe she was better.

Actually – despite being a former medical doctor – she didn’t care about that nearly as much as she cared about where Rose was.

This time, when the door still refused to open, Luisa began to play with it. She fiddled with it and fiddled with it until finally it creaked open. The sound made her jump beneath her skin, given how quiet the rest of the house was. She thought, you know, maybe she’d hear bacon crackling on the stove. If she didn’t still have a stuffed nose, maybe she would smell breakfast or something. Rose was in the habit of cooking for her when she was sick; she’d spent all day yesterday in bed while Rose tended to her hand and foot, only occasionally venturing away to check in on Mia.

But now, there was nothing.

Luisa crept down the hallway to Mia’s room and stood just outside the door for a few moments. If she was _smart_, she would stay outside until she knew she was better. As sick as she’d been, it would be worse for Mia to catch it. But she _felt_ better – enough to be curious – and against the advice she would have given a new mother, she slowly pushed the door open and peeked inside.

There was her missing wife, fast asleep in the rocking chair, her head pressed against one thin fish-shaped pillow with her red curls splayed all over, and there was Mia, curled up and sleeping in her arms.

Luisa couldn’t help but smile. Then her eyes widened with mischief and the smile expression settled into something much more smug. She ran on tiptoes back to her room and then returned to Mia’s room with her phone in tow. Rose hadn’t moved. Neither had Mia. She crept into the bedroom and very, very carefully took a picture. Then she watched. Nothing happened. She crept a little closer and took another picture, but they seemed to be so tuckered out that they wouldn’t wake up no matter _what_ she did.

She grinned.

By the time she was done, Luisa had _at least_ fifteen pictures of her two girls asleep together. Rose seemed to almost wake up somewhere around the tenth, when Luisa hadn’t been able to suppress her coughing, and she’d frozen, watching her wife curiously, trying not to move, until Rose seemed to settle more comfortably against her pillow. The danger gone, she hadn’t been able to stop herself from taking more pictures. _Blackmail_, she knew Rose would call them if she ever saw them, but that wasn’t why she wanted them.

Okay, maybe a little bit, but she didn’t have many pictures of the two of them together.

When she was done, Luisa left her girls alone until whenever they might wake up, tucking her phone back in its place on her nightstand and heading into the kitchen to scavenge around for something to eat that wasn’t vegetable broth.

* * *

Less than a week later and Luisa had two children of her own to look after. Whether Mia got her cold from Luisa peeking in on them or from Rose kissing her forehead so soon after kissing Luisa’s was anybody’s guess, and while Luisa wanted to use it against Rose (and much later would), she knew better than to try to do _anything_ against the wishes of her sick ex-crime lord wife, who had come down with the same cold, probably from spending so much time around Luisa while she was sick, even if it _was_ just catering to her hand and foot.

Of the two of them, Luisa would say that _Rose_ was the biggest baby. She could get Mia to quiet down every now and again, but Rose? Any time Luisa tried to leave the room, Rose would grab her wrist and beg for her to stay. Eventually, Luisa had moved Mia’s makeshift cradle into their room and, much to Rose’s dismay, turned on _Dumbo_ – the first in a marathon of Disney movies to keep their daughter entertained while Rose tried to curl up next to her wife.

Mia quieted down when Jumbo began to sing, rocking the little elephant in her trunk, and Rose’s lips turned up in a small smile as Luisa began to hum with the song, although she didn’t explain why. It was their little secret, after all.


End file.
